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BY HELEN TOPPING MILLER W N U.service
CHAPTER XVl—Continued.
—II
Wills had drtwn a dozen maps of
this region, he had plotted it from
aerial photographs, and every line
of these was »ngraved on his mind.
There were the tremendous sum
nuts to the north and west, there
was this ridge, sloping southward
and eastward, where Hazel Fork
went splashing down to meet the
river. It &11 had form, it fitted in
with the thought that had entered
his mind when he studied the little
map in Virgie Morgan's desk. So
many of the surveys had been hap
hazard, so much had been done
that had to be done again.
"Stop here a minute," he said,
"just here. I'll walk a little way."
He unfolded the map again. He
had drawn it, sitting up most of the
nsght, drawn it from sketchy bits in
the note-book that remained in his
pocket. All his material had gone
on to Washington, but he felt that he
had enough.
Slowly he walked, studying the
terrain below. Above, on the nar
row road, where first Virgie Mor
gan had seen the two men in the
black car, Marian sat now, be
hind the wheel, looking small and
lonely. For an hour, he scouted the
crest, and the sun climbed higher.
Icicli s melted on the southern slopes
and the faces of the crags began
to drip. Down the gullies little
streams ran clear, finding their way
through a lacy network of ice. On
a muddy bank, where he leaped
across, was a deer track, lately
made, clean-printed and plain.
He returned to the car and Mari
an sighed patiently, as she set the
motor going again.
"Now where?"
"Can we get down under—down
there where the big trees are?"
"We'll have to go far around.
Some of it will be rough. But I
know the way. I used to come in
here with Tom."
She fell silent, as they followed
the rough woods track, thinking of
Tom. Just down there he must have
hidden, those two days—and below,
through the cathedral trees, ran the
abandoned road where Cragg and
the others had come in. A heavy
pain bothered her when she thought
that Tom probably would never see
his beloved trees again. Never see
the hills again, perhaps—or the
shabby old mill that he had loved—
never hear again the crow's shrill
defiance or the answering insolence
of the mountain raven.
It was noon when they reached
the lower slope of the ridge, and the
sun had warmed and gilded the
rocks with a false promise of spring.
"Look here, you must be starved,"
Wills exclaimed suddenly. "Is there
any place near where we can get
some sandwiches, or something?"
"Lossie made sandwiches. They're
back here and there's some coffee."
"Saved! I was a chump not to
think of it myself."
The coffee was not hot.
"Would the lady who owns the
stewpan mind if we blacken the
bottom of it?" Wills asked. "I can
make a fire."
"Lossie can scour it."
If only things were different, Mar
ian thought wistfully, what fun this
would be! If only he were not so ar
rogant and so cold—if only she did
not detest him. Wills built a small
fire, expertly, between two up-ended
racks. Then he thrust a stick into
a crevice and hung a white hand
kerchief on it.
"Truce!" he announced. "The war
is temporarily suspended while the
combatants are fed."
"Only one cup," said Marian. "So
—what do we do?"
"i'our your half back into the bot
tle. Then you drink from the cup
and I imbibe from the stewpan."
"It's hot."
"In camps where I've dined we
used empty bean cans. Gives a rich
l;ork-und-catsup flavor to the brew."
A winter sparrow came and tee
tered on a sumac bough, making
small inquiry as to whether any
crumbs would remain. The sun lay
ardently on the face of the rock
and Marian held her palms to it,
catching the warmth in cupped, pink
lingers.
Her head was cocked like the
bird's, her eyes were cool and re
mule. Wills looked at her and his
heart gave a savage, hurting clutch.
His spine straightened and a grim
line hardened around his mouth. He
was not defeated. Now she was as
fur from him as the moon—but when
a man had caught a precious dream
in his heart it was not easy to let
it go. Today she was the daughter
of the Morgan mills—and he was an
employee in corduroy pants. Tortior
row—he clamped his teeth and
flung a challenge to tomorrow. And
suddenly he cleared his throat
roughly.
Intolerable—to sit here in a for
est silence with her disdain, with
her eyes on him in cool indiffer
ence.
He flung the crust to the waiting
sparrow, stood up.
"You needn't speak," he said,
hoarsely. "I know how you feel—
how you despise me. But I'm go
ins to tell you this—if I never say
another word to you as long as we
live. I fell in love with you—the
first time I ever saw you. I—haven't
?hanged. I realize who you are—
and who I am—just a tramp that
your mother rescued from a moun
t th ; '-ket! I know what you've
been thinking. It doesn't change.
Nothing will change me—ever. And
—l'm not giving up."
She stood up, slowly, let her eyes
come up slowly. There was an odd
little beating at the base of her
throat, and for an instant her eye
lids trembled mistily.
Then she gave a choky little
sound.
"I'm going home," she said and
turned and ran without looking
back.
The car door slammed. The mo
tor roared and she tore down the
rutty track, jolting and bouncing for
a hundred yards. Wills sat still on
the rock, turning a cigarette slowly
round and round in his fingers.
Then as suddenly as she had
started, Marian stopped the car,
backed it slowly.
"Get in," she ordered.
He gathered up the stewpan and
the thermos bottle.
"Get in—and don't talk to me,"
she repeated, huskily keeping her
eyes straight ahead.
Her profile was as unyielding as
the line of the distant mountains.
She could manage humble men
and make important ones re
spect her.
She was David Morgan's daughter
—and she was finding it hard to
surrender.
All the way back to the mill she
kept her eyes grimly on the road.
Wills sat silent, but his heart was
leaping wildly, and a little smile
twisted the corner of his mouth.
She was built, fine and gallant and
loyal, as a silver sword. She was
cut from a golden width of the fab
ric of dream. For a dream like
that a man could wait a lifetime—
joyfully!
Virgie went to the mill that Sat
urday morning, with her face set
like the face on a monument.
She had argued with herself
through long hours of darkness. Why
was she being such a fool, being
thrown into a tense panic by Wal
lace Withers? She could mill pulp
and she could sell it; she had proved
that. She could borrow money and
pay it back. She could manage
humble men and make important
ones respect her. Even if Wallace
bought up her notes, she could pay.
She had kept her credit good. The
mill would run on.
David would have laughed at Wal
lace Withers—or smiled his dry, one
sided smile, for David had seldom
laughed. He had been intent and
grave and fiery, like Marian. But
he fought an army of enemies and
come through. His mill should run
on.
Very high-headed, Virgie climbed
the steps of her office. And there
Lucy Fields looked at her with a
tragic face.
"The West Virginia people have
canceled," she said.
"What?"
"The West Virginia order—they
canceled by wire this morning."
"But their stuff is already
milled! It's practically ready to go.
What reason did they give?"
"None at all. It was a very short
message. They canceled." Lucy was
wan-faced. Her fingers were un
certain as she opened a tradepaper
and indicated a paragraph. "I just
saw this. Do you think it could have
had anything to do with it?"
Virgie scanned the column. The
paragraph Lucy pointed out, was
headed, "MORGAN PEOPLE IN
TROUBLE." The Morgan mills, so
the type stated, were experiencing
serious labor trouble, the outgrowth
of a shooting affair on the property
of the company. Mr. Gordon Cragg,
prominent financier and timber
magnate, so the story ran, had been
shot and dangerously wounded by
Thomas Pruitt, superintendent of
the Morgan plant.
"Somebody ought to show this to
Tom," Virgie commented, flatly. "I
don't suppose anybody ever called
him Thomas in his life."
"But we depended on that West
Virginia order," Lucy worried.
"They've never canceled before—l
just looked through the files. They've
been buying from us for eighteen
years. We depend on that order
for the tax money."
"I'll have to go up there, I sup-
THE DANBURY REPORTER. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 13. 1941
pose—and argue with them," Vir
gie said patiently. "Payne and
Hooper and Withers, et al., are get
ting in some fancy underground
work."
"How can you go—with Tom's
trial starting Monday?"
"Young Daniels will have to go."
Virgie sat erect again. At least
here was something that could be
done. Something definite and on the
offensive. "Go get him, Lucy."
While Lucy was gone across the
yard, Virgie thumbed the mail over
swiftly, scarcely seeing the type
that her eye ran over. On Monday
Tom would go on trial before a jury.
"And any sentence will kill him—
so it would be kinder to hang him
and be done with it," she had an
swered that.
What troubled her most was her
own ineffectiveness. She had been
fiercely boastful, she had defied the
world, as the Irish are so prone to
do; she had talked widely and mag
nificently about saving Tom—of sav
ing the mill and being undismayed
by Wallace Withers, and now every
recurring blow left her more help
less, more inarticulate, futile, pa
thetic.
It was a sickening spectacle for a
proud woman to contemplate. It
was worse for an honest woman who
could not bring herself to stoop to
alibis. Up to now, she had been
able to do nothing to stem this tide
of disaster. Somehow, of course,
Payne and Hooper and Wallace
Withers were behind this newest ca
tastrophe. She gave Wallace credit
—he was overlooking nothing.
Lucy came back, followed by
Stanley Daniels.
Virgie regarded her chemist, her
mouth drawn severely straight.
"For a working man," she said,
"you're very elegant, this morn
ing!"
Daniels wore his good clothes, a
clean shirt, a jaunty tie. He was a
trifle pale, but he faced her coolly.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan," he
said. "But—l'm not working today.
I was checking over the laboratory.
I am resigning my position with
you—today!"
Virgie let the old octagonal clock
tick off a measured minute, while
she looked him up and down. Lucy
stood like a statue, white as death,
motionless, hardly breathing.
"So—they got you, too, did they?"
Virgie said, presently.
Daniels flushed, then the blood
drained out of his face.
"My—decision has not been influ
enced by anyone," he said, stiffly.
"I have felt—for some time—that I
did not have your confidence, Mrs.
Morgan. Chemistry is a responsi
bility—a serious responsibility. I—
feel that I don't wish to assume that
responsibility any longer in a plant
where I'm not—trusted."
"Who distrusts you?" Virgie coun
tered, her eyes as frigid as his.
He was manifestly uncomfortable.
Lucy drew a little strangling breath,
her hands at her throat.
"You were very plainly sus
picious of me, Mrs. Morgan—when
we lost that pulp. And your atti
tude yesterday—and before that—"
"How much," Virgie cut in, "did
Wallace Withers pay you to make
that speech?"
Daniels glared, affrontedly.
"I have not been paid—certainly
not by Mr. Withers!"
Virgie reached for the telephone.
"Call Julia Gill for me, Mildred,"
she said into it evenly. "Julia?
This is Virgie Morgan. Was Wallace
Withers in town last night? Oh, he
came there to see Mr. Daniels, did
he? Much obliged. No—that's all."
She hung up.
Stanley Daniels' eyes were blaz
ing.
"I—think I have a right to—my
own affairs," he said, "on my own
time—without being spied on—or
catechized!"
"All the right in the world." Vir
gie's tone was wooden. "The right
to cheat and do sabotage—and de
stroy the people who have depended
on you! The right to disappoint peo
ple who look for something decent
and square in this younger genera
tion."
"I haven't cheated! I didn't touch
that pulp—oh, what's the use? You
wouldn't believe me anyway!"
"No," Virgie was patient, "proba
bly I wouldn't. I'm just a stupid old
woman. I believe what I see—and
what I hear. I see you deserting me
—and I hear that you've been in
communication with the man who
brags that he's going to ruin me. I
add up two and two in my naive,
outmoded way—and I get a plain an
swer. Now—l'll tell you something,
Daniels. I did suspect you—at first.
I overcame it—because I want to
believe in young people. I called
you in here just now to send you off
on an errand of importance to me—
because I hoped you'd do it well—
because I thought you'd be glad of
the chance to prove yourself to me.
But—all that's ended. Talk is no
use. You can check out. Take the
inventory over, Lucy—and check
him out."
"You'd better check carefully,"
Daniels flared. "Probably I've been
stealing from you, tool"
"The person you've been stealing
from," said Virgie, with a heavy
patience, "is yourself!"
"Oh, please I can't!" faltered
Lucy.
"I said—go over and check him
out," repeated Virgie, evenly, "and
remember—all the tragedies aren't
played in the Little Theatre 1"
[II
At the laboratory door, Lucy
turned on Daniels a livid face.
"How can V°ii do a thing like this
—to her?"
He flushed angrily. "What chance
did I have? I could have explained
—but she wouldn't have listened
You heard her give me the third de
gree—telephoning Mrs. Gill."
"You could have explained what?
What was there to explain?"
"I could have explained why With
ers was there. He—framed me. He
would have ruined me. He led me
on to talk—he got information out
of me—formulas—"
"You told him what to put in a
digester to fuin a batch of pulp!"
Lucy was all white scorn. "You
were just talking—to be interesting
—because he made you think yot
were important. And then when he
tok the information he got frorr.
you—and hired those low-down Spain
boys to do the work, probably—"
"How do you know?"
"I don't know. But—it adds up
doesn't it? And then he threatened
you—l think you're cheap!" she
blazed at him. "I think you're—
yellow! And—l was in love with
you! I—suffered because you didn'i
care! It—makes me sick now when
1 think about it."
He flung the door back. The flat,
acrid chemical smell rushed at
them. This had been his world—
the place where he had ruled mer.
and processes, by the power of hi*
moving thumbs over a test-tube, by
the might of figures written on ruled
sheets, by his word. For years
had been supreme, a person of im-'
portance, knowing things other men
did not know. But now he was only
a lost young man stumbling into a
reeking cubicle—a young man out ol
work.
"Hadn't you better get at that in
ventory?" he said, flatly, racking up
test-tubes. "I'm leaving town. I
don't intend sticking around here
forever."
But Lucy did not stir. She stood,
with the flat book under her arm,
her eyes purple-black and thunder
ous.
"You're not going!" she slashed.
"You're not going through with this.
You're going to stick here—and be
something—a man!"
"Sorry—l'm going."
She held the latch of the door. She
was vibrant all over, like a small
gray hornet.
"You're not going! There's the
mill! I—despise you! When I think
what a fool I've been—crying—ovei
you—l never want to see you again.
But— there's the mill. It has to go
on. It has to go on. And we
can't run without sulphides and
magnesium and the right formulas.
You're not going—because I'm go
ing to lock you in!"
Daniels jumped too late.
She had swung with the heavy
door, crashed it shut, and he heard
the heavy padlock he had himseli
put on, clack fast on the outside.
"You're not going, Stanley Dan
iels," she shrilled at him through
the panels. "You can sit in there
and make up your mind to that!
You can make up your mind to—be
a man! You're going to stay in there
—till I get good and ready to let
you out!"
He dragged at the door, beat un
availingly on the heavy panels. He
swore at her.
"You crazy little fool!" he shout
ed. "You crazy devil!"
But she was gone. He kicked the
panels in wrath, but the effort was
wasted and he knew it.
Heavily he sank on the greasy
stool, watched an upset bottle of
acid trickle slowly to the floor.
Who would have thought that qui
et, mousy little thing had so much
fire in her? His anger relaxed a lit
tle. He had been sick, shaken and
miserable with a mixture of shame
and dread all night. Toward dawn
he had decided that the only thing
to do was to leave town.
But now his neck stiffened a little,
his jaw set. So—she thought he was
yellow, did she—the spunky little
devil? He'd show her—he went to
the door and gave it a resounding
kick.
CHAPTER XVII
The lawyer who came at noon*
with Wallace Withers, was a suave
stranger.
He was, so he stated, from Balti
more. He represented the Messrs.
Payne, Cragg, and Hooper.
"And Withers," added Virgie.
"I do not represent Mr. Withers.
I am not connected with the local
enterprises of my clients, Mrs. Mor
gan. I am retained to prosecute a
suit for damages for Mr. Cragg
against your—superintendent, I be
lieve—Mr. Thomas Pruitt."
"You didn't overlook anything, did
you?" drawled Virgie.
"It is the function of an efficient
attorney to overlook nothing. Very
wisely, we think, Mr. Pruitt accept
ed our advice—which was to settle
out of court. With more serious ac
tion pending it would be unfortu
nate for him to be involved also in
civil matters, to which he could not
give his attention. So he decided tc
make suitable settlement with my
client, Mr. Cragg, and I have here"
—he unfolded a paper—"an ordei
upon you, Mrs. Morgan, to delivei
to me fifty shares of stock in tlw
Morgan, mills—the property of Mr
Pruitt."
Virgie sprang up.
(TO BE CONTINUED).
IMPROVED
UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
SUNDAY I
CHOOL Lesson
By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST, D. D.
Dean ot The Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago. „ ,
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Lesson for February 16
Lesson subjects and Scripture texts se
lected and copyrighted by International
Council of Religious Education; used by
permission.
JESUS TEACHES FORGIVENESS
AND GRATITUDE
LESSON TEXT—Luke 17:1-4. 11-19.
GOLDEN TEXT—Be ye kind one to an
other. tenderhearted, forgiving one another,
even as Cod for Christ's sake bath forgiven
you.—Epheslans 4:32.
Did you ever hear of "vinegar
saints"? They are the Christian folk
who are "preserved" (as Paul
prayed in I Thess. 5:23), but are
apparently pickled instead of sweet
ened. Every housewife knows that
things may be preserved with sugar
or with vinegar.
God never intended it to be that
way. All through His Word there are
admonitions and encouragements to
gracious and considerate living. Ev
ery Christian is under orders to
"grow in grace" as well as in the
knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ
(II Pet. 3:18). This lesson stresses
two leading Christian graces.
I. Forgiveness—Not Always Easy,
but Always Possible (vv. 1-4).
The Bible is ever realistic in its
approach to life. God knows that
Christians must live in just our kind
of world; in fact, your kind of world,
and makes provision for it.
Offenses cannot be avoided. There
will always be occasions for stum
bling. No matter how closely we
may guard our children, they will
face temptations. Let us prepare
them to meet them with the power
of Christ, and let us be so prepared
ourselves.
The fact that offenses must come
does not excuse the one who creates
the cause of stumbling. Someone is
responsible for every such occasion
for offense, and the woe of God is
pronounced upon him.
What shall I do about the one who
thus tempts me and others? Just
grieve over it and look the other
way? No indeed. "Rebuke him,"
says God's Word. Let us do itl If
he does not repent, there is no oc
casion for forgiveness. To do so
would only encourage him in his sin.
If he repents, or even says he
repents, we are to forgive, not just
once, but over and over again (v.
4). That's not easy for any of us,
but it is possible if we, like the dis
ciples (see v. 5), ask God to "in
crease our faith," and use it as
Jesus directs in verse 6.
11. Gratitude—the Almost Forgot
ten Christian Grace (vv. 11-19).
Nine men wonderfully healed of
the dreadful disease of leprosy, and
only one said, "Thank you," to Je
sus, "and he was a Samaritan," an
outsider or stranger. One wonders
whether in our own day of professed
enlightenment and culture the aver
age of those who express their grat
itude would even reach one-tenth.
"Gratitude is as scarce as friend
ship." Many there are who profess
to be Christians who never offer
praise to God for the provision of
their daily food, let alone for all
other temporal and spiritual bless
ings. The kindness of friends is
taken for granted. The thoughtful
ness of others is accepted without
comment.
Have you told your minister that
you appreciate his sermons and his
ministry in the community? Does
your Sunday School teacher know
that you have received help and
blessing in the class? Does the edi
tor of this paper know that you en
joy and appreciate this column? If
you do, why not encourage him by
calling him on the telephone or writ
ing him a note to tell him so?
Young people, have you ever said
a real heart-felt "thank you" to your
father or mother for all they have
done for you? Perhaps some older
sister or brother or school teacher
or neighbor would be greatly heart
ened by such a word from you.
Someone may say, "I am grate
ful, but I am not the type that
talks about it." One wonders wheth
er Henry Van Dyke was not right
when he said, "A dumb love is ac
cepted only from the lower ani
mals." A dog will show his thank
fulness by wagging his tail, but a
man has a tongue with which to say
kind and tender words of apprecia
tion to both God and man.
Most important of all, let us bear
in mind that God awaits our words
of praise. Christ valued the words
of gratitude of this man and missed
them from the nine others. When
He was in Simon's home (Luke 7:
44-46), He gently rebuked His host
for failing to show him the ordinary
courtesies of the household.
Appreciate Beauty
Never lose an opportunity of see
ing anything beautiful—welcome it
in every fair face, every fair sky,
every fair flower and thank Him for
it who is the fountain of all loveli
ness; and drink it simply and ear
nestly with all your eyes; it is a
charmed draught, a cup of blessing.
—Kingsley. ,
Bible Is Valuable Guide
I have read it (the Bible) through
many times; I now make a practice
of going through it once a year; it
is a bode of all others for lawyers
as well as divines, and I pity the
man who cannot find in it a rich
supply of thought and rule for con
duct.—Daniel Webster.
HOSIERY
8 Pair* Chardonlte Hosiery 11.50. Send M.
O. Perlume*. Negligee. Sock*. Raincoat*.
Sheet*. Blanket*. Stamp bring* parti. Smith
Sale* Afeaejr, ItH Michigan At*., Chloaga.
WATER HEATERS
Aatematle Electric Water Heater 30 Oal.
Finest quality S3O. Buy direct from fac
tory, eave half. Valuable information free.
White Products Corp., Lanslnf, Mich.
ff&T AROUND
||p THE HOUSE
Ton will find that fresh bread
will cut easier if you heat the
knife.
• • •
To keep muslin curtains even
when laundering, put two curtains
together and iron as one curtain.
• • •
A little vinegar put into soapy
water when washing aluminum
ware helps to keep it bright.
• • •
For washing windows—an old
auto windshield wiper blade makes
a good utensil to wipe water from
house windows after they have
been washed.
• • •
Before hanging clothes on the
line in freezing weather, put pins
on the clothes in the house, then
snap on line with double clothes
pins.
• • •
A Towel Tip—lnstead of making
kitchen towels roller shape, put a
deep hem on each end and slip
roller through. When one end be
comes damp reverse the towel.
Less toweling is needed and it will
dry much quicker.
* • •
Iron scorches on white cotton,
silk or linen materials may be
removed by dampening a cloth
with peroxide of hydrogen, laying
it over the scorch, then putting a
dry cloth over the damp one and
pressing with a warm iron.
/yynrTTWT*l^B
Wishes
Anger wishes that all mankind
had only one neck; love, that it
had only one heart; grief, two
tear-glands; and pride, two bent
knees.—Richter.
Relief At Last
ForYowCough
Creomulslon relieves promptly be
cause it goes right to the seat of the
trouble to help loosen and expel
germ laden phlegm, and aid nature
to soothe and heal raw, tender, In
flamed bronchial mucous mem
branes. Tell your druggist to sell you
a bottle of Creomulslon with the un
derstanding you must like the way it
quickly allays the cough or you are
to have your money back.
CREOMULSION
for Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis
Fruitless Harvest
Who eat their corn while yet
'tis green,
At the true harvest can but glean.
—Saadi.
H1 AD ACHEPOWP IRSj
MtoHEiimlt ■ Mtor Bit. Co, Milam M.
Sweetest Plum
In all the wedding cake, hope is
the sweetest of the plums.—Doug
las Jerrold.
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TABLETS
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WNU-7 7—41
Kindness Reconciles
Harshness will alienate a bosom
friend, and kindness reconcile a
deadly foe.
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